Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May
by kyugan
Summary: You probably heard the story before: Dumbass gets sent to another world in costume. Sadly, the world I was sent to was one where time was swiftly flying, where blooming flowers that smiled today,tomorrow would be dying. The people cry out for heroes to shield them from the monsters. How quickly they forget that a 'Hero' is just another word for 'Killer'.
1. Prologue

Just another random idea I'm clearing out of my head-space before I forget about it.

While I fully intend to make this a full-on fic, I want to get my other affairs, and older fics, in order first.

* * *

 **Prologue: A Woman Scorned.**

Legends. Stories scattered through time. Since the dawn of creation, Mankind has always put great stock in recounting the exploits of heroes and villains. Kind of fitting really, after all, when you stop to think about it, everything we ever knew was merely a by-product of time, built on the dusty remnants, of a forgotten past.

Me? I've always been an 'in the now' kind of guy, my concerns tend to limit themselves to 'what's for dinner?' or 'who's picking up the tab', so I for one couldn't begin to tell you how this all got started, as due to the inherent nature of the world we live in there are more forgotten religions than we know what to do with, each with their own particular brand of Genesis to preach on about.

Some say the world was born of fire, others that it was moulded from clay. One really weird cult claimed we were all merely the product of a popular web-series that had outlived its creator but nobody took those guys seriously, so long as they were kept away from anything remotely sharp.

Still, for the purpose of narrative, I'll simply stick to the Genesis handed to me courtesy of a dusty, drunken old crow, if only because the original source was from a man I respected, but probably shouldn't have trusted as much as I had.

See, while there are an untold number of Gods and Goddesses of dubious legality out there, the only two with any form of concrete evidence as to their existence, despite no-one seeming to know their names, were the enigmatic 'Brothers'.

The Elder brother, as these things usually go, was the so-called 'God of Light' and typically went around being all cheerful and pleasant, making random things like plants, animals, mountains, you name it.

Sadly, as you no doubt surmised, this meant that the younger brother, the so-called 'God of Darkness', jealous of his brothers' talents, took it upon himself to be a creepy edgelord and destroy everything his sibling had created.

Fortunately for us, Brother Number 1, either had the patience of a saint or just didn't give a fuck, as no sooner would the sun rise than he'd simply start over, making more things as if to spite his sibling, resulting in an endless loop of creation and destruction.

Needless to say, being the lazy, edgy bastard that he was, Brother Numero Dos got sick of the endless cycle and decided to take a leaf out of his brother's book, creating a blight on the world that shared his innate desire to destroy everything and anything his brother created.

And thus, the creatures of Grimm came to be.

Now I won't bore you with the details regarding the greatest threat to all sentient life on the planet. After all, the odds of someone being born into this world unaware of the existence of Grimm is about as likely as a group of complete idiots managing to sabotage the elaborate plans of an organisation dedicated to training the most elite murder-machines in the universe through sheer dumb luck and bull-headed stupidity.

In any case, suffice to say it was the creation of the Grimm that finally got the elder brother to realise just how much of a little shit his sibling was being, and after what was likely a dramatic battle too graphic to be put into visual media, though I personally believe involved a single bitch-slap, he convinced his sibling to join him in creating one last masterpiece before pimping off to some new world out there.

Now I'm sure you've all figured out by now just what it is the Brothers created, but for those of you who spent your schooldays sniffing glue and staring at the teacher's butt in her tight skirt, it was us.

And by 'us' I don't just mean 'Humans' like certain asshole elitist, mustachioed cultists would have you believe, I mean 'All Sentient Life of Remnant', or to put it simply, every living being that can generate an aura.

Now for all of you out there cowering in your homes wondering just what the hell an Aura is, normally the only answer I'd be able to give you is 'Classified' or at the very least 'the thing that lets Hunters do all the really cool shit with Dust'. But seeing as how things have quite literally gone to Hell in a hand-basket, along with the only people whose opinion I cared for, I think I can be forgiven for letting a few things slip.

To put it as simply as possible without insulting your intelligence, Aura is a manifestation of the life force inherent in every living creature on Remnant with a soul. That's right, everyone on Remnant, regardless of rank, gender, or station, can learn to do all the cool shit Hunters do on television, provided, of course, they learn how to access their Aura.

Now, for those of you who don't have the benefit of coming from a line of Hunters or living in close proximity to one, the first time you'll likely hear of the subject of unlocking your Aura is during your first combat class at a Preparatory Hunter Academy. Students deemed worthy of Graduating to one of the Premiere Hunter Academies and lacking the benefit of having their aura unlocked early by Huntsmen relatives, are instructed in how to unlock their Aura naturally over the course of their formative years through meditation and self-reflection.

It goes without saying that this is the preferred way of learning to unlock one's aura, as it gives the body time to acclimatize to the changes wrought on it. However, as you probably correctly surmised from my explanation, there are other methods of unlocking one's Aura.

The second method, popular among Hunter Families and the Atlesian Military, is to have someone trained in the use of Aura slowly pour their own into the student, typically while reciting a chant, in order to coax the student's aura to the surface. While a faster means of unlocking ones Aura, it is nowhere near as effective in the long run, as the initiate's body would still need to learn to adapt to the changes wrought on them in addition to learning to master their new abilities.

This is fine for the likes of Atlas or those descended from Hunter lineage, as the former can make up for the lack in quality through rigorous military discipline while the latter have the advantage of having family to coach them early on, but it goes without saying that the other Huntsmen Academies prefer quality over quantity, so this method, while hardly frowned upon, is not as prevalent elsewhere.

There does exist a third means of unlocking Aura, but I'll cover that at a later time, as in all honesty we've waffled on about semantics for long enough. What it all boils down to, basically, is that Aura is primarily a defensive mechanism that passively coats the wielder in a protective force field, which is why Hunters can survive being slammed through walls, set on fire and all that other crazy blockbuster shit you see during the tournaments.

Now what does all this have to do with The Brothers Grimm, as I tend to call them? Well you see, the Hunter Academies weren't always around. Hell, they're actually rather recent, at least in the long history of things, an after-effect of The Great War. And yes, it really does deserve the Capital Letters.

See, once the King of Vale, sorry, _The Last King of Vale_ , finally got off his throne to remind his fellow rulers just why he wore the pointy hat, he stuck around long enough to found the Hunter Academies with his most trusted acolytes appointed as Headmasters, both to ensure that the next generation of Guardians lived up to his expectations and to safeguard the relics which he built each academy on top of, before taking a leaf out of the Brother's book and pimping off to parts unknown.

What relics, you might be wondering? Well when the story says the Brothers Grimm gave us Knowledge and the ability to Choose whether to Create or Destroy, they weren't being metaphorical. Each 'gift', Knowledge, Creation, Destruction and Choice, exists in a physical form, and it should probably go without saying, but as tools crafted by the Gods, their power is off the charts, enough to change the world as the user saw fit.

Looking back, that might explain just how the King was able to kick so much ass back in the day, so you really had to hand it to the guy for not only hiding the damned things in the last places anyone would think to look, but ensuring they would be filled to the brim with trained warriors. The fact said warriors didn't even know the relics were there just meant there were less odds of someone discovering them.

Unfortunately, someone did find out about them, even worse, that someone was the delusional sort who believed everything would be better with them running the show, or at the very least with most of the world's population wiped out, forcing the survivors to cling to them for mercy.

Not that such things mattered to me mind you. After all, what did I care about some delusional witch wanting to enshroud the world in darkness like the antagonist of some JRPG? Well being dragged ass-first into the middle of the clusterfuck certainly didn't give me much of a choice now did it?

Hm? You want to know what the hell I'm talking about? Well then sit back ladies and manwhores and let me regale you with a colourful tale of sex, debauchery and you should totally see the look on your faces right now. Seriously, funny shit.

But in all seriousness, as with most stories leading up to a cluster-fuck, my story begins, and ends coincidentally enough, with a woman.

* * *

 ** _Atlas, Capital City of Solitas, Several Weeks prior..._**

 _"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome...Weiss Schnee!"_

The Auditorium promptly burst into scattered applause as a spotlight tracked the young, white clad woman as she walked onto the stage, her features a mask of pure calm in the face of their scrutiny and the myriad camera flashes from the shadows.

The whole place was packed to the brim with the Atlesian Elite, every single one of them the kind of elitist, privileged snob who would only drink water if it came sparkling out of a brand bottle and was served in a crystal wine glass by three different waiters. The kind of people that liked to appear charitable by 'donating' pittance to charities they formed amongst themselves whilst squeezing every penny out of their minimum wage employees.

Seriously, there was probably more wealth on display in this one auditorium than had probably been sunk into building the damn thing in the first place. Hell, the only reason little miss Schnee was even on stage in the first place was due to being strong-armed into yet another fundraiser devised by her father, as if the Schnee Dust Corporation even needed more money in the first place.

No this was about control, and Jacques Schnee (nee Gelè)'s desire to wrest what little he could of it from his youngest daughter. A fact that young Weiss clearly knew as she gazed impassively into the crowd, allowing not one iota of her true feelings to show as she closed her eyes, took a breath to settle herself, and began to sing.

 _"Mirror, tell me something. Tell me who's the loneliest of all..."_

"Hell of a voice she's got there." I complimented, standing just out of sight of any wandering eyes or cameras that might be aimed at the private booth that had been arranged for my client "You must be proud."

"I am." My client confessed, her cool blue eyes gazing down at the figure on stage with a wistful smile that made her appear years younger. Not that she was old mind you, indeed just by looking at her you'd be hard-pressed to tell she was pushing forty something, were it not for the bags beneath her eyes and the worry-lines at the edge of her lips as she sipped from a crystal wine glass.

Her third glass, it should also be noted, since I arrived in the booth, with god only knew how many she'd consumed prior.

If I were to describe Willow Schnee in a single word it'd be MILF. If threatened to reconsider, I'd probably go with 'jaded beauty', for despite putting out three kids her looks hadn't deteriorated. If anything, like the fine wine she was currently imbibing, she had only matured with age, leaving her with a figure that many a woman, mother or not, would gladly kill their firstborn for.

However, it was clear from the dull look in her icy blue eyes and the way she tossed back her wine like it was water that years in a loveless marriage had taken its toll on the daughter of Nicholas Schnee. While her husband's PR Team did their utmost to maintain the illusion of the Perfect Atlesian Family, hell the asshole even went so far as to bleach his hair to strengthen the illusion due to none of his kids taking after him, in all honesty their marriage had deteriorated since the death of Willow's father, to the point it was practically a public secret they slept in separate wings of the mansion altogether these days.

The strife within house Schnee wasn't limited to the parents either. With the exception of the youngest child and only son, Whitley, who from what I'd heard was a brown-nosing little snake in weasel's clothing, both of Willow's daughters had grown distant from their father, her eldest, Winter, even going so far as to renounce her title as heiress to join the Atlesian Military as a Specialist.

Unfortunately, as much as I admired the eldest Schnee for her defiance, if she'd intended to inconvenience her father then she had failed spectacularly. If anything, her renouncing her birthright only served to benefit Gelè, as it removed a potential threat to his control over the company once Willow kicked the bucket.

See, Nicholas Schnee wasn't the sucker Gelè had pegged him for, which in all honesty he really should have expected, considering everything the old man had gone through to get where he was today. Seriously, the man clawed his way up from the gutters with nothing but his wits, brains, charisma and single-minded determination, founding the basis of an industrial empire that to this day was considered the premier supplier of Dust-Based products.

So it went without saying that, when Jacques Gelè came sniffing around after Nicholas' daughter like the opportunistic rat he was, ol' Grand-Pappy Schnee instantly saw through his schemes and worked a clause into his will that ensured the SDC would remain firmly in the hands of his family.

Put simply, while Gelè was the current CEO of the SDC, his position was entirely dependent on his marriage to Willow, the true owner of the company, with her children being next in line, a fact that Gelè only discovered during the reading of Nicholas' will several years after the birth of their youngest child. In short, Gelè couldn't divorce Willow without losing everything he'd worked to obtain, and he couldn't simply kill her off, as control of the company would simply default to his kids before passing on to their myriad cousins, none of whom had approved of his marriage to Willow even before he revealed his true colours.

I had to admit, a part of me couldn't help but admire Nicholas Schnee. Not just for the multitude of achievements he'd done for not just Atlas, but the entire world, but for the sheer deviousness it took for him to find a way to screw his son-in-law over from beyond the grave.

'King Barlowe would be proud.' I mused, though my good humor soon fell as I followed Willow's icy gaze back down to Weiss, or more accurately to the scar resting beneath the girl's right eye. On anyone else it would've been barely noticeable, but with the light shining on her and her face raised towards the crowd, it stood out like a crack on a porcelain doll.

See, when Gelè discovered he couldn't just dump Willow and claim the SDC for himself, he'd stopped even trying pretend he hadn't married her for her position. Hell, the bastard came right out and admitted it during Weiss' tenth birthday, so confident of his control over her that Willow wouldn't dare divorce him out of spite.

While this proved true, for the most part, it also had the unintended effect of uniting the Schnee women against Gelè. While Whitley remained loyal, in-so-far as a brown-nosing weasel can have any loyalties, Gelè soon found himself faced with the very real possibility of losing everything the moment Willow kicked the bucket, right up until Winter, in an act of spite, cast it all aside to join the Military.

This, as you might imagine, lead Gelè to crack down hard on Weiss, the bastard likely hoping to indoctrinate her at best, or drive her off like Winter at worst, leaving control of the company with Whitley, whom as established was more than willing to be his pawn, for now anyway.

Fortunately, the Middle-Schnee had apparently inherited a good portion of Grandpa's shrewdness, for not only had she decided to emulate Winter and become a Huntress, she had done so publicly, without renouncing her inheritance as heiress to the SDC.

What this meant was that Gelè couldn't name Whitley as heir without causing a media shitstorm, but at the same time he couldn't countermand Weiss' proclamation, as it only served to bolster the reputation of the Schnee family, and by extension, the SDC, which had taken a considerable hit in recent years due to his, shall we say, less-than-savoury business practices.

However, by no means did this mean he'd sit back and accept Weiss defiance. Oh no, if anything he cracked down harder on her, doing his level best to get her to lash out or break her spirit, whichever came first, whilst outwardly masquerading as a proud supportive papa for the cameras, publicly voicing his support for her decision to attend Atlas Academy.

With this in mind, you can probably imagine the conniption he'd suffered when she publicly announced her intention to attend Beacon Academy. Not only was this a blatant act of defiance on her part, by transferring to Vale, where his influence was minimal at best, she would be out from under his thumb for the most formative part of her life.

Needless to say, Gelè hadn't taken the news well at all. Indeed, it was probably safe to assume the discovery of how well he'd been played by a girl not even half his age unhinged him a little, as that was the only logical explanation I could fathom that could possibly explain how the bastard thought he could get away with having his secretary sic a Gods-damned Grimm on his own daughter.

Oh sure, they covered the incident up as a 'training exercise', citing that the girl was never in any real danger and that the few injuries she received were due to her lack of experience, but at the end of the day the scar beneath Weiss' eye served as a brutal reminder of just what kind of man her father was.

"He'll be at the fundraiser this evening." Willow explained from behind her wine glass, her eyes never leaving her daughter's face "Weiss will be in attendance, so I ask that you avoid anything too…showy."

"I can't promise she won't have nightmares." I cautioned, which earned an actual scoff of amusement from the woman, her lips quirking upward in a self-mocking smile, as if anything I might expose Weiss to could possibly be more traumatizing than living with Jacques Gelè, the Schnee Matriarch titling back her glass once again as I took my leave of the cold woman and her lonely daughter.

* * *

 _ **SDC Fundraiser, Half-An Hour Later.**_

Weiss sighed internally, the Schnee heiress having spent the past half-hour since the concert finished rubbing elbows with her father's associates, to the point the plastic smile she wore on her face had actually begun to hurt.

It's not that she didn't enjoy singing, indeed, it was one of the few pleasures in life she could honestly claim as having made her own, without having to rely on her father's money. In retrospect, she should have known that the man would find some way to taint even that, using her talent as a means of bolstering their family's reputation, a reputation that had only begun to decline thanks to him.

Weiss wasn't ignorant of her father's dealings. Certainly, as a child she'd been more than willing to live the pampered life in her ivory tower, unconcerned with the affairs of Grandfather's company or her father's running of such. But then Grandfather had passed away, and her father had…changed.

No, rather, all the lies he'd cultivated to conceal his true nature had been exposed, though at the time Weiss had been too young to fully comprehend what was going on. All she knew was that her father had become angrier, colder, crueler, and that it had something to do with Grandfather's will.

It was around that time her mother had changed too, the once strong, cultured, strict buy loving woman devolving into a shadow of her former self upon realising she'd been shackled to a monster all this time.

To see their mother, who they had long since admired and sought to endeavour, brought so low by their father's cruelty, had galvanised the Schnee sisters into action, vowing to do whatever it took to wrest control of their lives, and their legacy, from their father, no, the usurper Jacques Gelè.

It was for this reason that Winter had sought to join the Atlas Military, surrendering her right as heiress to Weiss, both to ensure Jacques could not interfere with her studies and to provide her sister with an ally within the armed forces once it came time for her to succeed the company.

During the interim, Weiss had opted to bide her time, endured every indignity that Jacques forced upon her, cultivating the image of a pristine heiress whilst secretly honing her skills with the intention of busting free of her gilded cage by attending Beacon Academy.

Her reasoning for attending Beacon instead of Atlas were two-fold. Firstly, ever since Winter's defection, Jacques had gone to great pains to cultivate a working relationship with General Ironwood. While she highly doubted her father influence the General directly, his position as the premiere provider of Dust based products afforded him a lot of clout with the council, who unfortunately did possess the ability to do so.

Her second, but by no means less important reason for choosing Beacon over Atlas was to make a name for himself. From a young age it had become painfully aware that all of the praise she had been showered with had been due to her status as a Schnee. Even while singing she was not seen simply as Weiss, mere the Schnee Heiress, singing on behalf of the Schnee Dust Company.

Not that she was ashamed to be a Schnee, mind you. If anything, she and Winter attributed the decline of their family's good name entirely to the actions of her father. However, if she ever hoped to wrest control of her life away from the man, she needed to break away from that image for a time, let the world see there was more to her than a princess in an ivory tower, that the Schnee name meant more than just hollow, broken promises.

"That's precisely my point." Her father insisted, chatting away with another of his like-minded cronies with Weiss standing at his elbow, despite her desire to be virtually anywhere else "We offer Faunus the exact same wages given to the rest of our mining staff. Their argument's completely invalid right out of the gate."

"Well, I think the bigger issue here is our society as a whole." The businessman stated "You can't deny there's a link between their protests and the economic disparity between Atlas and Mantle."

'A disparity we created by moving all our businesses out of Mantle.' The heiress scoffed, though she had to admit she could hardly fault the logic of doing so. After all, while Solitas' inhospitable terrain was just as deadly to the Grimm as mankind, it couldn't ward them off entirely. It was just common sense to have the nation's capital be the most defensible location, and on Solitas that was Atlas Academy.

Did she think they had gone too far renaming the kingdom after the Academy? Perhaps, but in the end what did it matter so long as their people thrived? That they continued to do as they had always done, and surpass the limitations of technology? Compared to that, what were the lives of the few left behind matter?

'Everything.' Weiss insisted, once again steeling her resolve to do something about the situation once she'd wrested control of the company away from her father, only to flinch as he placed a hand on her shoulder. To anyone looking on from the outside, it would've come across as a show of paternal affection, but to Weiss, the man's touch simply sent waves of apprehension and disgust through her.

"Come along Weiss," he ordered, masking it as a gentle instruction with his cordial tone and the mask he wore whenever out in public "It's time to address our guests."

"Very well." Weiss acknowledged, knowing better than to try and shrug off the man's hand, instead accepting his offered arm as he led her through the guests towards the small stage, where a podium had been set up for his announcement, only to blink as the lights went out.

"What the devil?" Jacques demanded, his mask slipping for just a moment in surprise before he glared at one of the nearby waiters "Don't just stand there you idiot!" he hissed "Get the lights back on this instant!"

"Right away sir!" the poor man stammered, racing off to comply while Jacques turned his attention to calming the crowd, assuring them that it was simply a power failure, as no-one would dare attack them with the security detail he had hired.

'You mean the detail General Ironwood brought with him." Weis scoffed, glancing to the side where the General was glaring into the shadows, one hand pressed to his ear, the other reaching into his coat for his firearm. While the General hardly needed an escort, military protocol was very clear when it came to attending events with high-profile targets in attendance, so he'd seen fit to provide the security for the evening personally.

'A shame Winter couldn't make it.' She sighed, allowing a small smile to form as she recalled the conversation between the General and her father, where the General had offered nothing but praises for Winter's progress, a fact that brought Weiss no small amount of pride for her sister and satisfaction as she watched her father struggle to retain control of his emotions at the reminder of her defiance.

She was soon snapped out of her musings as the speakers, which had been prepped for her father's speech, suddenly activated, the audience stilling as a low, ominous humming filled the air. "What the devil?" Jacques demanded, glancing around warily "Who is that? What's going on here?"

 _Well what is this that I can't see, with ice cold hands taking hold of me?_

"Is this some sort of publicity stunt?" he demanded as the haunting female voice began to sing over the speakers, turning to glare at Weiss, as if half expecting this to be her fault, only to relent when he saw how visibly confused she was by the turn of events "Come out and show yourself!"

 _When God is gone & the Devil Takes Hold, who'll have mercy on your soul?_

"Oh you're one of _those_." He scoffed, shaking his head mockingly as the tension left his shoulders "Some religious nut-job trying to frighten me into joining one of your cults. Well nice try, preacher, but the only Spirit I believe in is innovation!"

'And Capitalism.' Weiss scoffed, though much like the other guests she was quickly calming down now that it was apparent that this was simply a publicity stunt, no doubt devised by one of the many charity groups her grandfather had set up that had been left out to pasture once Jacques took over the SDC.

'I should probably seek them out once I'm head of the company.' she mused, partially to make amends for what her father had done, and partially to find and shake the hand of whoever had the testicular fortitude to bypass the General's security to pull this off. If they were a Faunus, she might even consider hiring them just to rub salt in the wound.

 _The children prayed, the preacher preached, both time and mercy are beyond your reach._

"I hope you understand there'll be consequences for this." Jacques proclaimed arrogantly as he continued to glare at the room "Even if General Ironwood doesn't have you locked up, my lawyers will ensure you never see the light of day for a long time!"

 _No wealth, no land, no silver no gold, nothing satisfies me but your soul._

"Is that a threat?" Jacques demanded, all pretenses of his genteel manner gone as he glared defiantly around the room "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?!" he snarled, waving his hand accusingly as he glared around the room, heedless of how everyone's attention was drawn to him "I am Jacques Schnee! I made this country what it is today, and I will not be threatened by the likes of you-!"

It happened so quickly that Weiss almost missed it. One moment she was watching father make a fool of himself, lashing out at whoever was behind this, admittedly unnerving prank like a petulant child, the next she was forced to blink as something red passed before her eyes, only to gasp in alarm as an explosion sounded outside, the audience whipping around just in time to see her father's limousine go up in flames.

"Everyone, calm down!" the General commanded, his tone brooking no argument as he drew his revolver from within his coat "My troops are currently guarding the exits, please proceed towards them in a calm and orderly manner and we will see you to safety." He turned to regard her solemnly "Miss Schnee, can I trust you to watch my back?"

"Y-Yes…?" Weiss stammered, caught off guard by the sudden explosion, only to mentally chastise herself, resuming her composure after a quick breath "I mean, yes Sir. I may not possess my weapon," she once again cursed her father for refusing to allow her to bring Myternaster with her "but I'm confident enough in my control of my semblance to at least provide support."

"Good enough." The General acknowledged, Weiss basking in the approval she detected in his words, only to blink as a scream cut through the air, the General whipping round to see several of the guests clustered around something off to the side "I said calm down! Damn it! Jacques, help me calm them down…Jacques?"

'Let me guess, the coward already made his escape when the explosion went off.' Weiss scoffed, not even bothering to hide her disgust with her father as she stepped forward to try and calm the panicking guests, only to blink as they stepped aside, allowing her to see just what it was that had set them off.

 _I'll close your eyes so you can't see, this very hour, come and go with me_

It was her father, the man having not, in fact, made his escape like the coward he was, a fact that clearly surprised nobody more than himself, if the expression of shock on his face was any indication. At least Weiss assumed he'd been shocked. It was rather hard to tell, what with all the blood and the contents of his skull currently decorating the floor before him.

So stunned was Weiss by this revelation that she couldn't even bring herself to scream, simply standing there, watching as General Ironwood stood over the corpse, calling for his forces to secure the perimeter. A sudden cool breeze drew her attention to a nearby window, the heiress turning, slowly as if in a dream, just in time to see a tall figure, his features concealed by a hood as red as her father's blood, his body clad in a black bodysuit with a silver greaves and chest plate.

As if sensing her attention, he paused, tilting his head to glance over his shoulder at the silent heiress, the rest of the world seeming to fade into the background as they stared at one another. Then Weiss blinked and blinked and the moment was gone, along with the phantom, the open window with it's billowing curtains the only sign of his passing, the feel of the cool wind on her cheeks sending shivers down her spine as the haunting song drew to a close.

 _My name is Death and the End is here…_

* * *

You have no idea how satisfying that scene was to write.

For those of you who guessed, this is another RWBY self-insert, though I won't go into details just yet. Suffice to say it follows the usual trope: Otaku is sent to Remnant, gains the abilities of their costume, shenanigans ensue.

No spoilers for now, but let's just say Jacque's death will have consequences on the plot of RWBY.

Till then, this is Kyugan signing out.


	2. Chapter 1

Follow-up to the last chapter, where we shall witness the impact of Jacques' death on Atlas, both for good and ill.

On with the show!

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Changes.**

To the few people who knew him, Arthur Watts was many things, chief among them a Genius, a Gentleman and something of a perfectionist. And while all of these were certainly true, they were only the smallest parts of the complicated enigma that comprised his being.

Case in point, while the outward definition of a Gentleman, Watts was a self-made man in all the way that mattered. While a Genius, he could at least acknowledge the accomplishments of others and give credit where it is due, albeit not without some backhanded slight.

He also utterly, without question, despised children. No, perhaps 'despised' was too strong a word, as in all honesty he didn't deem children to be worth the effort of actually acknowledging, let alone devote enough of his attention to develop any form of emotional attachment to their presence.

However, for lack of a better word, 'Despised' seemed to do as a stopgap to define his stance in regards to children, particularly those who refused to learn their place, viz-a-viz, as a far away from him as possible or, failing that, out of sight, out of mind, and keeping their damn mouths shut.

Indeed, if his disdain for children were any greater it was highly likely he'd have chemically castrated himself just to ensure he never sired any of his own, had he not already resolved never to do so after being exposed to the disappointment that was the fruit of his younger brother's loins.

It should go without saying that most of his acquaintances would be rather surprised to learn that Watts possessed a sibling, or any family for that matter. Indeed, Watts would have been most displeased to discover they had done so, considering the lengths he had gone to bury any and all links to his past from the public eye.

It wasn't that he was ashamed of his origins, far from it, he wouldn't be the man he was today if he'd grown up among the soft, opulent sheep that comprised Atlesian High Society. Nor was it something as asinine as sibling rivalry, at least not so far as Watts was concerned. If anything he considered his brother's frequent attempts at one-upmanship to be amusing, if fruitless diversions from the humdrum of his daily routine.

No, it was simply because, given the nature of his work, and more importantly the identity of his current employer, Watts had deemed it necessary to make it as hard for the authorities to tie any 'unfortunate accidents' to him, when there were so many more useful scapegoats to take the fall. After all, one did not expect to sit within the Inner Circle of the Queen of the Grimm without getting ones hands dirty or bringing something of considerable value to the table.

While Watts was of the opinion that his mind was more than worth the price of admission, having several sources of disposal income, legitimate and otherwise, and a stockpile of resources to supplement their campaign certainly didn't hurt in the grand scheme of things, for unlike his fellow initiates, bar Hazel Rainart of course, Watts wasn't so delusional as to believe he wasn't replaceable in the Queen's eyes.

Setting aside Tyrian, who simultaneously worshiped the ground Salem walked on and cursed it for defiling her, Watts wouldn't be at all surprised if the only reason Cinder was counted among them was because of that ridiculous requirement to become a Maiden, as bereft of that the girl held no value outside her combat skills, which paled in comparison to Hazel's, and her strategic ability, which relied almost entirely on _his_ information networks and whatever other resources Salem deigned to grant her.

Hell, even Tyrian, as insane as he was, outclassed the would-be Maiden in terms of sheer devotion, willing to sacrifice his own life to appease his Goddess' smallest whims. Indeed, the only resources Cinder could honestly claim as her own were those two charity cases she'd picked up for no other reason than to stoke her superiority complex, and even then she'd needed to rely on Watts to have their criminal records wiped clean, to say nothing about properly outfitting them and supplying the boy with top of the line prosthetic legs.

In short, if Watts was pressed to describe Cinder Fall in a word, the only one he'd deem appropriate would be 'Mediocre', a trait she ironically shared with his younger brother. Where the two differed, however, was that whereas Cinder was almost completely reliant on other people to accomplish her objectives, Watts' sibling at least possessed the mental faculties to land himself a cushy position as the head of the world's premiere supplier of Dust Based Products.

Of course, with that being said, that didn't mean he'd earned Watts' respect. After all, it was hardly as if he'd built his empire himself, he'd merely taken the reigns from the ailing family head after using that silver tongue of his to whisper sweet nothings into the ear of daddy's little princess, securing his position by virtue of ensuring the man's lineage would live on.

As repugnant as Watts found his siblings' methods, however, what truly earned his disgust was not his misplaced arrogance, as he'd always been a cocky little shit, but how quickly the fool had allowed power to go to his head, leading him to lash out at anything that might threaten his fragile ego, which in turn led to him turning to Watts when he couldn't just throw money at his problems to make them go away.

Still, as disappointing as his brother could be, he still had his uses, so while they continued to maintain as much distance from one another in the public eye, they at least managed to cultivate a professional working relationship behind the scenes, wherein Watts would use his connections to make his baby brothers mistakes disappear, in exchange for signing off on whatever research materials Watts demanded, no questions asked, no matter how steep the price tag.

Now it wasn't as if Watts was dependent on his brother's resources mind you, but acquiring them via legitimate channels was always preferable to relying on bribes and subterfuge to keep the all-seeing eye of Atlas at bay, especially after James Ironwood was promoted to General following the disgrace of Lagune. And so, for the time being, Watts deemed it prudent to ensure his brother remained in a position to provide said resources until the Queen had no further use for them.

With that in mind, you can probably imagine how vexed he was to learn that the little shit had gotten himself assassinated.

Not that he particularly cared about his brother's death mind you. Quite the opposite, he'd actually devised several intricate schemes to have the man disposed of once Salem's plans reached endgame. No, what vexed him was that he had lost access to one of his more lucrative supply routes all because the idiot refused to shell out the lien needed to hire his own damn security detail.

Still, no point crying over spilled milk as they say. While the loss of access to the SDC's resources was unfortunate, in the end it was but a minor inconvenience so far as Watts was concerned. One that, depending on how he played his cards, could even prove to be more beneficial to his employer than keeping his brother alive.

"Forgive me for disturbing you, Milady." He greeted, offering a deferential bow to eldritch horror that was levitating before him, the preferred means of communication between Salem and her agents "An issue has arisen that I felt necessary to inform you of."

"Ah, Good evening, Doctor." Salem's voice greeted cordially from the horror "I was just wondering when you would contact me. I presume this issue pertains to the changes I've sensed from the Grimm surrounding Atlas?"

"My sincerest apologies for not contacting you sooner." Watts offered "I deemed it prudent to monitor the situation to gather as much of the facts as possible, lest I waste your time with uninformed hearsay."

"Always the perfectionist I see." Salem chuckled, and for the first time since initiating the call Watts allowed himself to relax, albeit just a hair, as only a fool would entirely relax their guard around the Queen of the Grimm, even when communicating by proxy "Very well, what have you to report?"

"I regret to inform you that we will no longer be able to count on supplies from our contact within the SDC." Watts reported diligently "It seems someone finally decided that my brother had outlived his usefulness to society. The disturbance you sensed is likely the result of the citizens of Mantle celebrating his demise."

"Ah, hope." Salem mused, her tone almost whimsical, yet carrying a not so subtle undertone of mockery that Watts had grown used to hearing whenever she spoke of the follies of mankind "That most treacherous of poisons…so quick to turn to despair."

"As you say, Milady." Watts concurred "Even as we speak, General Ironwood is cracking down on the most vocal of the revelers. If my informants are to be believed, it's only a matter of time before he imposes Martial Law to restore some semblance of order so he can carry out a proper investigation."

"All the better for us." Salem noted approvingly "Indeed, his actions should only add fuel to the flames that will be Ozpin's funeral pyre…though will the added security prove a problem for you?"

"Not at all." Watts scoffed, waving a hand dismissively "I'll confess, the added security measures will make it harder to move about unnoticed, but the program I devised to hack the towers has already been completed." He waved his scroll for emphasis "Admittedly, gaining access to the Tower here in Atlas would prove a challenge, but why bother when any of the other Towers will suffice?"

"Indeed." Salem concurred, and Watts was relieved to hear she actually sounded pleased "Very well, I shall leave things in Atlas to you, Doctor. Please ensure Cinder receives the program as soon as possible."

"By your leave." Watts offered, bowing before the eldritch horror once again as it floated off to the hidden closet he'd set up in his personal study before straightening up and striding out of the room, his fingers blurring over his scroll as he brought up a list of contacts.

After all, contrary to his late brother's conceited belief, the world did not revolve around him, indeed, so far as Watts was concerned the death of Jacques Schnee (ne Gelè) wouldn't even warrant a footnote in the grand scheme of things.

* * *

 ** _Atlas, 1 Week post the Assassination_**

To say the assassination of Jacques Gelè sent ripples through society was an understatement. As despicable as the man might have been, no matter how many people clamored for his head, and believe me, there were plenty, the fact remained that, as CEO of the Schnee Dust Corporation, he was easily one of the most influential men of the planet, a position that Jacques had clawed his way to by lying, stealing, greasing palms and crushing anyone who stood in his way.

Needles to say, claiming the man had made enemies on his climb to the top would be as redundant as saying people die when they're killed. Be it the Faunus Workers or small-time dust store owners that got shafted by his cutthroat practices, or his less-savory 'business partners' that felt he hadn't cut them a fair deal, it was safe to say that Jacques Gelè had earned himself a healthy portion of the resentment that stewed within the melting pot that was Atlas.

With that in mind, you can probably imagine how confused the Grimm patrolling the city's borders must have felt when that mass of resentment, hate and blood-lust almost instantaneously transmogrified into elation, joy and merriment overnight. Probably put them right off their next massacre, the poor soulless murder machines.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying there were parades in the street with people singing a drunken, decidedly more vulgar rendition of 'Ding Dong the Witch is Dead', but at the same time I'm not denying they were doing just that.

Heck the only reason there wasn't rioting in the streets was mostly due to the impressive efforts of General Ironwood, who showed impressive restraint by simply having the drunken revelers brought in to sober up in cells before sending them home, as opposed to simply throwing away the key.

However, even the General's patience had its limitations, and in all fairness, it was impressive that he was able to restrain himself for as long as he did. But every camel has its straw, and in Ironwood's case it came in the form of a certain red-haired, psychotic, soon-to-be-stalker-ex-boyfriend, claiming responsibility for the assassination in the name of the White Fang via International Broadcast.

Needless to say, even with Sienna Khan releasing a public statement denouncing the White Fang's involvement almost immediately afterwards, the ensuing backlash forced Ironwood to impose a curfew to get the revelers off the streets so he could focus on the investigation.

See, while Ironwood may not have particularly liked Gelè, tolerated him at best, but never outright liked, the man had been one of his more influential financial backers. It was for this reason, as well as a personal favour to Winter and Willow, that he'd deigned to attend the man's fundraisers despite knowing he'd only been invited to boost Jacques' own reputation.

Well, that and to cut the costs on hiring security by relying entirely on Ironwood's personal retinue, something Ironwood had long since given up calling the man out for, as the insufferable prick would merely scoff, citing what need had he to dip into his own coffers with 'Atlas' Finest' in attendance.

This, as you might imagine, put Ironwood in a sticky situation, as he couldn't demand Jacques provide his own damn security detail without implying his lack of faith in his own troops, but at the same time if anything did happen, the blame would rest solely on the General's shoulders.

With that in mind, you can probably imagine the quite literal bricks the good General shat the moment he saw Jacques lying in a pool of his own blood, surrounded on all sides by the Atlesian elite, the man's daughter looking on in shock.

I wouldn't be surprised if, in that moment, the General felt the same chill race down his spine a fresh-faced recruit would feel upon locking eyes with an Alpha Grimm on their first mission. At the very least he hadn't lost a limb this time, though not for lack of trying on the Media's part.

It was only to be expected really, after all, nothing got elitist pricks and media vultures hot under the collar like the hint of a scandal, and the fact Jacques had been murdered on Ironwood's watch was like blood in the water, drawing in every single one of the vultures looking to gorge themselves on the ensuing Media Shit-storm like the swarm of feces vampires they were.

Fortunately for Ironwood, there were considerable benefits to being the head of the Atlesian Military. Aside from their excellent health plan, guaranteed to get a man back on his feet, and back on the front-lines, within mere weeks of convalescence, the most important benefit afforded by his position was that he was also Chairman of the Atlesian Council, meaning he didn't need to go through the same amount of Red Tape his fellow headmasters had to deal with in order to, say, enforce a gag-order to keep the paparazzi from interviewing any of his subordinates that had been involved in the disaster.

Were it any other Kingdom, the people might have considered his actions tyrannical. Indeed, such oppressive actions against the public's freedom of expression had been one of the many reasons behind the outbreak of the Great War. But to the residents of Atlas, which was a Military State in all but name, it was simply the General's attempts at saving face after one of the greatest failures of his career.

Case in point, while Ironwood's authority made it so attempting to interview Military personnel would be about as effective, and considerably less pleasant, as attempting to interview a brick wall, he couldn't prevent them from asking their questions to those outside the Military without causing a full-on-riot.

Indeed, the only other person who likely could have pulled off such a feat was Ozpin, the Headmaster of Beacon Academy, who despite all his insistence on the importance of freedom of expression could hardly fault Ironwood's methods when he himself had often taken steps to ensure the Citizens of Vale remained ignorant of the seedier goings on within the Kingdom.

Suffice to say, when it came to being a magnificent bastard, Ozpin truly had no equal, the enigmatic headmaster managing to make the Council dance to his tune from behind the scenes whereas Ironwood had to rely entirely on force to get his way.

Not that there's anything wrong with a show of force mind you, however it seemed that Ironwood never quite mastered the 'speak softly' aspect of wielding the Big Stick, whereas Ozpin could whisper softly in the right ears and have other people with significantly smaller sticks unite to solve his problems for him.

But enough about Ironwood's failures, or lack thereof. You probably aren't here to be reminded of how pathetically two-faced the media can be or how power corrupts and all that bollocks, true or not.

No, you're probably wondering what effect Gelè's death had on four people in particular, namely his widow and children. You wouldn't be the only ones either, as when the media weren't trying to tear Ironwood's reputation to shreds, they were doing their damnedest to try and get even a passing statement out of the surviving Schnee family.

Winter's response, as expected of an Atlesian Specialist, was a politely worded 'No Comment' that translated into something decidedly less polite if you took her tone, expression, and the fact the only reason she wasn't physically threatening people with her sword if they didn't get the damned microphones out of her face was because it'd reflect poorly on the General.

However, if the vultures were hoping to have any better luck plying a statement out of the rest of the family, they were in for a decidedly rude awakening, as no sooner had the coroner confirmed Jacques' death had Willow put the entire estate on lockdown, the Schnee matriarch requesting an armed contingent of Atlesian Specialists from Ironwood to guard the grounds whilst dismissing the 'hired goons' her husband had employed, citing their incompetence.

In short, faced with the twin fronts of Ironwood's resolve and Willow Schnee's frosty demeanour, the vultures soon found themselves starving for a scoop, actively turning on one another to prevent the competition getting a leg-up, which only served to impede the General's investigations further.

I can only imagine how confusing it must have all been for the Grimm. Poor bastards were probably getting headaches trying to process the mess of emotions coming off the city, to say nothing of the ones raging within Schnee Manor.

* * *

 ** _Schnee Manor, Master Study._**

"The matter is not up for discussion." Willow intoned, her features set in her usual cold mask as she stared out the window of her father's study, the self-same study Jacques had claimed as his own the moment Nicholas Schnee was in the ground, as evidenced by the massive portrait of himself he'd mounted on the wall behind it.

A portrait, it should be noted, that was one of many throughout the manor that were currently being taken down by several all-too-eager members of staff. What they intended to do with them I had no idea, but judging from the fact all the fireplaces in the mansion had been lit for the first time in ages, I could probably hazard a guess.

"Mrs Schnee, please listen to reason." Jacques' Secretary tried to wheedle on the other end of the scroll conversation, his hair in disarray and sweat dripping from his brow, a fact I attributed to the hammering coming from the door behind him "The board of directors-!"

"Have already been dealt with." Willow cut in, the ghost of a smile forming on her lips as she glanced at a news article depicting several of the aforementioned directors being frog-marched out of their homes, having been brought up on various charges incurred under Jacques' protection "Those that remain will either fall in line or they can collect their severance package at the door."

"You'll never get away with this!" the man insisted shrilly, though he was looking considerably less confident by the second as the hammering in the background intensified "The SDC will fall apart without us!"

"I sincerely doubt that." Willow countered, the Schnee matriarch turning from the window, cutting off the call just as the door behind the man slammed open to reveal several Atlesian Specialists, sinking into the comfortable leather armchair behind her father's desk with a sigh.

"I'd say they took that rather well." I mused, stepping forward from my spot in the corner to present the Schnee Matriarch with a freshly brewed cup of Vacuoan Blue Mountain Coffee "Winter seemed to be in high spirits at least."

"That she has." Willow mused with an undertone of maternal pride that complemented the small upturn of her lips at the memory of her eldest daughter's efforts to aide her in pruning the rot from their family's legacy and restoring the value of the Schnee family name.

See, Willow hadn't just been sitting on her laurels while Jacques ran her family name into the dirt. While the world around her assumed she'd become little more than a bitter drunk, and to be fair she'd given them no reason to think otherwise, she'd eventually gotten over herself after a sharp wake-up call drove home the fact that, if nothing was done to stop him, Jacques would destroy her family.

The nature of that wake-up call came several months ago, in the form of an attempted kidnapping courtesy of White Fang extremists. A kidnapping that could've been entirely averted if Jacques had afforded Willow the same level of security he did himself, instead of allowing her to be driven home with only a single elderly chauffeur for protection.

Needless to say, the old man, who had served Willow's family since she was in diapers, hadn't gone down without a fight. But gone down he eventually did, leaving Willow with no defence against the bloodthirsty terrorists that cared little for the fact she had no say in the way her husband ran her family's company, only that she was a Schnee and they had axes to grind.

Fortunately for Willow, there happened to be a third party in the alley that night, a third party whose intervention prevented her from becoming the driving force behind Weiss' transformation into Batman, though now that I think about it, that probably would've been awesome, Willow's murder aside.

Needless to say, that third party was none other than yours truly. I won't bore you with the details of how I found myself in the alley, as in all honesty you've probably heard it all before. Suffice to say the old standby of 'A Wizard Did It' holds true in this case, though I'd replace 'a' with 'The' and tack 'Marshall' onto the end for added clarification.

Lesson for the day kids: Don't buy anything from a Zelretch Cosplayer at an anime convention. Nine times out of ten it's the real thing and the remaining 10 percent of the time it's probably one of his many, many proxies looking to screw over some delusional punk hoping to live out his Isekai fantasies.

In any case, by the time my mind processed what was going on before me, and had forever burnt the image of Willow's tits, exposed courtesy of a soon-to-be-dead terrorist, into my memory, I was already moving to intervene. Normally this would've only resulted in an extra corpse to bury, but thankfully, like many a soul before me, the Wizard Marshall hadn't thrown me in the deep-end unprepared.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all before, 'con-goer' gets sent to another world as their costume, becomes an instant badass blah-blah. And it's true, by the time I'd finished off the last of the thugs it was easily clear that I was way stronger than I should've been. Even if they lacked the aura of trained huntsmen, it should've been physically impossible for me to rip men apart like they were bags of wet paper.

And I'm not just saying that out of humility. Do you have any godly idea how hard it is to rip a person limb from limb without employing a blade or explosives of some sort? Even back during the middle ages, with all their horrific methods of torture and execution, they more often than not had to resort to lopping the limbs off at some point, as the human body simply doesn't like coming apart.

Then again, it probably wasn't fair to compare the limitations of normal humans to that of a Servant, who even at their weakest were considered ten times stronger than mere mortals, so you could say I kind of lucked out in that regard. God only knows Willow certainly wasn't about to question her sudden windfall, though it didn't stop her from slapping me for staring at her tits a bit longer than I should've.

In any case, to this day, we were never entirely certain if Jacques planned that ambush or if it had honestly been dumb luck on the White Fang's part. While the latter was more likely, as Jacques wouldn't want to endanger his hold on the company until he was certain he'd either wrenched it from Weiss or brought her to heel, it wouldn't be the first time one of the man's many obstacles just 'disappeared'.

It was this very fact that finally drove home the severity of Willow's situation, the Schnee Matriarch opting to take a leaf out of her father's book and begin educating herself in private, taking advantage of her family's considerable resources to develop her fledgling business acumen with a little help from yours truly, Willow having hired me as her personal valet as a 'reward' for saving her life, a position I was more than willing to accept, given the circumstances.

What? Don't look at me like that. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a job in Atlas? And a well-paying one at that? Sure, it might have rankled a bit that I was basically a glorified busboy, but that was rendered moot by the simple fact that Willow never had me do any of the things you'd expect a snobby entitled heiress to demand of her servants. How much that restraint had to do with the memory of me ripping her attacks to shreds with my bare hands I chose to leave unsaid.

Regardless, at the very most Willow simply had me wait on her, acting as a medium between her and Jacques whenever the bastard would deign to remember his wife, bringing her material for her studies under the guise of topping up her wine glass.

Would she ever hold a candle to her father? Probably not, but at the very least within a few months she'd gone from being completely swamped to confident in her ability to run circles around Gelè and his cronies without having to bring herself down to his level.

Indeed, her original plan had been to bide her time, sending out feelers to determine which of Gelè's peons could be swayed to side and which would be better off being culled before she pulled the rug out from under him.

But then the bastard had gone and scarred Weiss' face. Maybe not personally, but it was on his orders that his secretary had seen fit to unleash that Geist-possessed Mechanical Knight in a bid to break Willows' daughter's spirit, to deter her from leaving her father's 'protection' in order to attend Beacon.

I'll be honest, it took every ounce of control I had not to put a bullet between Gelè's eyes then and there. Sure, watching Weiss take the thing down first-hand had been just as awesome as it had been during the 'White Trailer', but there was a notable difference watching a character do something bad-ass on-screen and watching a teenage girl fight for her life because her father was a petty little shit-stain.

Ironically it was Willow, of all people, who convinced me to stay my hand, to wait for the perfect opportunity to strike, an opportunity that Jacques unwittingly provided shortly after, in the form of Weiss' last recital before she was to head off to Vale.

You have no idea how satisfying it was to slip the dagger into that pompous asshole's heart, to see his eyes widen as he realized how well and truly fucked he was. Hell, I even got to channel my inner Ahnold, whispering ' _Consider this a divorce_ ' into the fucker's ear right before I blew his brains out while everyone was distracted by the explosion.

Of course, as much as she would have loved to purge everything associated with Jacques Gelè from her life, Willow knew better than to simply do so the very next day. No, she'd given the matter a week at best, waiting until Ironwood had officially placed a gag-order on the investigation before making her move.

The moment the order was given, she'd walked into a meeting at SDC headquarters, a meeting many of Jacques' supporters were purposefully kept in the dark about until the last minute, where she promptly took her seat at the head of the table, a calculated show of power to both drive home the fact that Jacques Gelè's reign had ended and that the true head of the family was done letting herself get walked over.

Oh there was an outcry, of course. After all, for all his political engineering Jacques hadn't gotten to where he was today without making a few allies, even if more than a few would've been more than willing to take him for everything he had, were it not for the blackmail and debts he'd amassed to keep them in line.

Debts that Willow dismissed outright and blackmail she threatened to submit to the authorities in order to garner loyalty and drive home the consequences of crossing Willow Schnee to those who thought they could prolong the stagnation of _her_ company.

I'm not gonna lie, I wasn't the only man in the room in desperate need of a cold shower after that display. Quite a few women too unless I missed my guess.

"Mother!" an irate Whitley Schnee proclaimed as he stormed into the study without so much as a buy your leave, his whiny, nasal, prepubescent voice instantly killing my boner and good humor as efficiently as I'd murdered his father "I need to speak with you-!"

"Lower your voice, Whitley." Winter snapped, cutting the boy off with a frosty glare, her tone making it very clear to her youngest that she was in no mood for his petulance "Now then, what is so urgent that you felt the need to barge into my study?"

"Your-?" the boy began, only to wisely reconsider in the face of his mother's arched brow, though it was clear from the way his features shifted that he'd noticed the absence of his father's portrait and wasn't liking the implications one bit "I wanted to ask if there'd been any progress with the investigation, and whether or not we should release a statement prior or after father's funeral."

"General Ironwood has assured me that the investigation is proceeding without issue." Willow replied, not missing the way the boy scoffed at the General's name "As for a statement, the matter is moot, as there will be no funeral. I've already made arrangements for his remains to be cremated."

"You can't be serious!" Whitley choked, the son of Gelè, for I refused to acknowledge him as a Schnee, looking absolutely flummoxed at the idea that his sire wouldn't be receiving the hero's burial he didn't deserve "That goes completely against father's wishes!"

"Jacques is dead, what more was there to be said?" Willow countered coldly, pointedly using the man's name as opposed to 'Your Father' or 'My husband', as if hoping to rid herself once and for all of the shackles that had come with the gold wedding band she no longer wore on her finger "Besides, any statement I released now would only add fuel to the fire, and James has enough to deal with as it is."

"Why should we care about that incompetent blow-hard?" Whitley sneered bitterly, his lip curling in a manner all-too-similar to his sire "If he'd taken his job seriously, father would-!"

"Have no doubt have been arrested for his less-than-ethical practices." Willow cut in, her expression decidedly cool "Rest assured, Whitley, the only reason James didn't air your father's dirty laundry was because he'd have dragged us down with him. I'd remember that the next time you dare to insult him."

Whitley seethed but said nothing. As Gelè's only son and heir in all but name, the little bastard had often sat in on the self-same business dealings his mother spoke of, and so knew full well that if any of them were brought to light the SDC's already shaky reputation would've come crumbling down as the vultures tore them apart.

However, it was clear to anyone with a pair of eyes and a functioning brain cell that the boy wasn't taking the recent shift in the reins of power very well. Having been raised by to see himself as the true heir to the SDC, it must have come as a rather unpleasant shock to suddenly find himself on the bottom rung of the totem pole.

Normally I'd have deemed the boy a threat, albeit a minor one, and acted accordingly, but whether it was out of motherly affection or confidence in her own ability to reign him in, Willow had forbidden me from laying a hand on her youngest, citing she might be able to 'salvage' him.

Truly, a mother's love is blind.

"Mother? Are you here?" a polite voice called out, drawing our attention to the doorway just as Weiss let herself in, the Schnee heiress blinking in surprise at the sight of her younger brother "Oh, am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all." Willow assured her younger daughter before turning to regard her youngest child with a cold, impassive stare that brooked no argument "Whitley was just leaving."

For a moment it looked like Whitley was about to object, quite vocally in fact, but in the end the son of Gelè managed to restrain himself in the face of his mother's arctic glare, coolly excusing himself through clenched teeth and a stiff bow before walking calmly out of the study, though not without sending a seething glare at Weiss in passing as he slammed the door behind him.

* * *

And I'll just leave off there for now.

So yeah, here I am subscribing to the popular Fan Theory that Jacques and Watts are siblings, although in my case Watts is the elder sibling, if only be virtue that, at least in my version, Jacques dyed his hair to fit in better as a 'Schnee'.

As for Salem being able to sense emotions through the Grimm, this is admittedly another piece of Fan-Theory I've subscribed to, but if she can communicate and control them, it stands to reason she can sense what they sense, to an extent, and a sudden upsurge of emotions in Atlas would certainly catch her eye.

Not much on action here, but as we can plainly see Willow hasn't been content to sit on her laurels as she did in canon. No sir, Mama Schnee has taken control of her life, and her family's legacy, and she's not done cleaning house yet.

Also, for those of you wondering what the S.I's relationship with Willow is...it's currently undecided. Originally I was going for a dynamic like we see between Integra, Walter and Alucard but we'll see how things develop.

As for pairings, I was originally planning on 'Checkmate' and 'Dragonslayer', both for plot reasons and the latter because there really aren't enough of those out there, but if you have any other preferences, feel free to mention them in a review, just give me a good reason for any strange ones.

Till then, this is Kyugan signing out.


	3. Chapter 2

Follow-up to the last chapter, picking up from the moment Whitley is sent to his room. This time, we see one of the more immediate effects of Jacques' pre-mature death, this time on people whose opinions actually matter.

On with the show!

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Consequences.**

'That boy bears watching.' I vowed to myself as I watched Whitley slither off to do whatever it was he did whenever he wasn't sucking up to his father.

Not that I expected him to try anything mind you, as much like Gelè, Whitley was a coward at heart, solely dependent on having others, typically his father, resolve any problems he might face. Bereft of Gelè's influence, and lacking the ability to use Aura, never mind the Schnee Family Semblance, and the threat he posed to anyone, let alone his relatives, became so minor it was almost laughable.

"Is…everything alright, mother?" Weiss inquired, snapping me out of my musings to find her glancing uncertainly between Willow and the door to the study her brother had just slammed behind him like the petulant child he was.

"Nothing important." Willow assured her daughter, though despite her mask she couldn't entirely hide her disappointment as she stared at the door "Enough of that, please, have a seat."

"Allow me, Miss Weiss." I offered, smiling as I pulled out a chair for the young heiress, who jumped slightly, having not noticed me appearing at her elbow "Would you care for some freshly brewed Vacuoan Blue Mountain Coffee?"

"Ah, yes, thank you." Weiss stammered as she took her seat, accepting the proffered cup with the grace befitting one of her standing, humming in contentment as she took a sip "Thank you, this is very well made."

"Though not as good as Klein's, I wager." I mused, chuckling slightly as the heiress flushed at being caught out "I'm not insulted, Miss Weiss. Klein has had years to perfect his craft, I'm merely grateful that he took the time out of his busy schedule to coach me in what little he could."

"You do yourself a disservice." Willow chided, the ghost of a smile adorning her features as she sipped from her own cup of coffee "Klein has professed considerable approval with your development, especially given your lack of experience. I dare say you have very little left to learn from him."

"Perhaps, though I've yet to wrangle his crepe recipe out of him." I chuckled, unable to help the feeling of pride I felt at the older butler's faith in my abilities. As one of the few decent people in Weiss life, and arguably her oldest friend, the fact that Klein Sieben deemed me worthy of praise was a high honour indeed "I'm certain you'll miss them once you're at Beacon."

"What?" Weiss blinked, the heiress looking honestly confused for a moment before the light of realization appeared in her eyes "Oh, right, I suppose you haven't been informed yet."

"Informed of what?" I asked, feeling an odd chill go down my spine as I glanced between Weiss' downcast expression and Willow's suddenly arctic frown "Did I say something wrong?"

"Not at all." Willow assured me, her tone deceptively calm as she raised her coffee cup to her lips, a stark contrast to the look in her eyes "It would appear that _Weiss will not be attending Beacon this year."_

"…I'm sorry, could you repeat that ma'am?" I asked, blinking at Willow in disbelief as I tried to process the bombshell she'd just dropped on my head "Miss Weiss won't be attending Beacon?"

"It would appear that Winter felt it would be too sudden a change so soon after Jacques death." Willow elaborated, hiding her sneer at the mention of Gelè by sipping her coffee with the grace befitting noblewoman "A sentiment shared by General Ironwood, since they have yet to acquire any leads as to the identity of this 'Red Hood' or his employer."

Though spoken casually, as if commenting on the weather, I couldn't help but flinch as her words dug into my flesh like barbed spears. Thankfully, Weiss seemed too preoccupied with her own coffee to notice my discomfort, though the slight tremble of her hands at the mention of her father's killer only served to add another twist of the knife.

"As such," Willow concluded, the sound of her coffee cup resting on the saucer akin to a guillotine in the tense atmosphere "Weiss has agreed to attend Atlas Academy instead, whilst also continuing her education to succeed me as head of the SDC."

"I…see…" I managed to say, glancing between mother and daughter only to find nothing that implied Willow had strong-armed her daughter into this. Not that I truly expected to find any mind you, after everything Jacques had put them through, there was no way Willow would ever consider such a thing "And you're certain this is what you want, Miss Weiss? I recall you seemed rather set on attending Beacon over Atlas."

"I was…and a part of me would still love to go." Weiss confessed "However, my duties as heiress to the Schnee Dust Corporation come first. With Father's…passing, and Winter having rejected her claim, mother will need all the support she can to ensure the company doesn't fall apart."

As admirable as that sounded, it still left me sweating buckets to hear her say that. While the argument could be made that Weiss' role in the initial Seasons was relatively minor compared to, say, Blake, she was still a key member of the cast whose absence would have long-standing consequences. She was the 'W' in RWBY for crying out loud!

Still doubt me? Then allow me to pose a quick question to anyone who might be listening: Is there anything more terrifying than the unknown? And I don't mean those useless Alphabet Pokémon, I mean that intangible, nerve-wracking feeling you get when faced with a situation or obstacle you lack the knowledge or ability to comprehend or resolve?

Now don't get me wrong, fear is an excellent motivator, hell, some of mankind's greatest innovations were probably only made possible because we wanted to alleviate those fears, to tame them, to make them ours. Primitive man only discovered how to make fire because we feared what lurked in the darkness, hell, the more jaded and skeptical of us claim we only invented religion because the thought of there being nothing after death terrified the living shit out of us.

Whether that's true or not I'm not qualified or willing to debate. Take it up with your Preacher, Rabbi, Imam or what have you if you really feel the need to punish yourselves. Point of the matter is, our innate fear of 'The Unknown' is so great that humans subconsciously avoid it, or at the very least find it very hard to resist the siren call of the familiar, the safe, trusted, tried and tested things that they know won't hurt them, or at least not immediately.

It's one of the many reasons that people in my situation rarely, if ever, try to deviate from canon despite their very existence being a major deviation. At the very most they'll try to effect minor changes to things they personally disagree with, like saving the life of a beloved character or trying to ensure their favorite ship sets sail, but for the most part they'll try to leave the overall story alone. After all, what's the point of winding up in a story if you can't predict the outcome?

In short, to quote the legendary Crimson Fucker, I'd done goofed, and was now on the verge of sailing into unfamiliar waters, and there were worse things than sharks out there.

'Maybe this can still be salvaged.' I mused, going over various scenarios in my head that could be used to convince Weiss to change her mind, only to blink as I caught the pair looking at me "Forgive me, ma'am, you were saying?"

"I merely noted that you seemed rather shaken by Weiss' decision." Willow noted calmly, her cool blue eyes peering into my soul as she assumed Gendo Ikari's iconic pose, somehow managing to make it more intimidating despite the lack of sunglasses "Is there some reason you feel she should attend Beacon instead of Atlas?"

'Aside from trying to salvage the plot?' I scoffed internally, though I wisely kept such thoughts to myself as I fumbled for an excuse "I was merely concerned for her image, Ma'am. After all, she was rather vocal in her desire to attend, they would be most disappointed to hear she's changed her mind."

"I've already contacted Professor Ozpin regarding the matter." Weiss pointed out, to my distress "While he did confess some disappointment, he understood that my first priority is to my family and has assured me that I'd be more than welcome to transfer the following year."

'Fat lot of good that does-!' I mentally cursed the immortal headmaster, though in hindsight I really should have seen this coming. Magnificent Bastard though he might be, Ozpin had always espoused the importance of choice. Certain Fanfics aside, if Weiss truly believed her place was in Atlas, the Great and Powerful Oz would have done little, if anything, to change her mind, even if it did cost him a potential Maiden Candidate.

"Are you sure there isn't some other reason that's bothering you?" Willow pressed, her gaze piercing through me in that knowing way that only mothers can achieve, the one they use when they _know_ you're hiding something but are waiting for you to incriminate yourself "You're not hiding something, are you?"

'More than you'd be able to forgive me for.' I confessed, even as I wracked my brain for a response that wouldn't paint me off as some sort of whack-job. While Willow had accepted many of my idiosyncrasies during our time together (oh I wish), claiming to have knowledge of preordained events was a good way to get yourself committed, not to mention the risk of rendering said knowledge moot.

As Nicholas Cage once said: _the future changes once you've looked at it, precisely because you've looked at it_. Normally it's only a small change, something in direct relation to you, but the butterfly effect can be a bitch when it wants to be, and I'd clearly underestimated the impact Gelè's death would have this early into the game. My only solace was that whichever depth of hell the asshole was sent to, he would be too busy being tortured to laugh at my expense.

'Damned E Rank Luck.' I swore, despite being well aware of how redundant the meme was. Mind you, being ten times luckier than I was in life worked both ways, and I'd been pretty fortunate up to this point so I was probably long overdue for a reality check.

"You do seem rather distressed by all this…" Weiss noted with a frown, only to blink, a look of sudden understanding blossoming in her eyes "Were you perhaps hoping to accompany me to Vale?"

"I…won't deny the thought had crossed my mind." I confessed, managing a small smile at being 'caught out' by the heiress "I've wanted to visit Vale for the longest time and this seemed the best opportunity."

I wasn't completely bullshitting her either. My original plan had been to accompany Weiss to Beacon, sneaking off after helping her settle in to 'remove' certain pieces from the board before returning to Atlas. Yes, I'm well aware that doing so directly contradicted my previous statement on altering canon but I defy anyone to stand back and simply let the events of the Breach or the Vytal Tournament happen, knowing they possessed the power and knowledge to do something about it.

Did I intend to confront Cinder directly? Hell no. I'm an Assassin, both by class and by trade. With the exception of King Hassan, we typically don't do direct combat unless all-else fails, and I had no intention of painting a target on my back in the event I fucked up and word of me got back to Salem, who was about the closest thing to Angra Mainyu I was likely to run into in this world.

'Lord knows the Beowolves have more than a passing resemblance to his shades.' I mused, shuddering at the memory of the First Avenger's Noble Phantasm, only to blink as I found Willow staring at me, her arctic eyes unreadable "Something wrong ma'am?"

"How old did you say you were again?" she einquired after a moment's silence, earning a look of surprise from both Weiss and myself at her train of thought "I know you're not that much older than Winter…"

"Something like that." I lied through my teeth. I don't know if it was a prank on Zelretch's part but needless to say my appearance was neither that of my birth, nor of the Counter Guardian I'd been cosplaying prior to manifesting in the alley. Rather, I resembled a bizarre, mixture of the two, as if we'd put on a pair of Potara Earrings or I'd been corrupted by his Class Card.

While this made it relatively easy for me to blend in as a 'homeless waif' that had rescued Willow in her time of need, it still chafed to be referred to as 'boy' by Gelè and those loyal to him for so long. Still, as satisfying as it was for that nonsense to have ended, I failed to see what Willow was aiming at with her train of thought, after all, my age had never really been much of an issue before now.

"Mother, you can't seriously be proposing what I think you are?" Weiss demanded, quirking a brow at the Schnee Matriarch in disbelief "I know you're grateful to him for saving your life, but there's a big difference between fending off a group of street rats and hunting Grimm!"

"I am well aware of that." Willow assured her daughter, though her eyes never left my own as she spoke "It is precisely for that reason that I think he'd be more than qualified for what I have in mind."

"I'm sorry, did I miss something?" I asked, glancing between mother and daughter in confusion, only to shiver as Willow smiled at me.

Now It should be noted that it had been a long time since Willow Schnee had ever truly smiled, which was only understandable, as following her father's death and the revelation of Gelè's true colours, she had a lot less to smile about. And I don't just mean the subtle upturn of the corner of her lips that she would occasionally permit to grace her features whenever we were alone, but proper, cheek stretching smiles that were forever immortalized in the pictures of her childhood.

With that in mind, you can probably imagine how privileged I felt to have played a role in helping the Schnee Matriarch learn to smile again. Say what you like about the Irish, we know how to make people laugh, both with us and at us, and we're stubborn bastards to a one.

Still, as proud as I was of my ability to put a smile on the woman's face, that didn't necessarily mean all of them were necessarily good. For every amused up-turning of the lips that had become the mainstay of our interactions there was always the occasional self-mocking smirk, the haughty sneer, the wistful sigh and the patented 'the only thing keeping me from throwing this wine-bottle at your head is because it's a good year' grimace.

The smile that currently graced her lips, however, is one that I had never seen personally. It wasn't a blatantly obvious kind of smile, nor was it remotely intimidating, merely a slight upturning of the corners of her lips that served to highlight her beauty, and yet for some reason it had every single one of the instincts I inherited from EMIYAssassin screaming at me to run like hell.

God Damn if it wasn't sexy as all fuck though.

* * *

 ** _Schnee Manor - Courtyard - 15:00 pm._**

"Thank you for agreeing to this, Winter." Weiss offered, looking on with a smile as her elder Sister finished her tea "I understand you've been very busy of late. Has there been any headway with your investigation?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss the ongoing investigation with non-Atlas personnel." Winter recited over the rim of her cup, having no doubt memorized the response by now, given how doggedly the media were trying to get anything on the case "General Ironwood sends his condolences, by the way."

"James always was a gentleman." Willow mused, a small smile adorning her lips at some distant memory, only to wave it aside with a slight shake of her head "And you're certain he won't mind you taking a break from the investigation?"

"If anything, he insisted I do so." Winter confirmed with a resigned sigh, though I didn't miss the hint of a blush that adorned her cheeks at the mention of the General's concern "Though I must confess, this wasn't what I had in mind when I received your invitation."

"On that matter I agree with you, Miss Winter." Her mother's valet concurred as he stepped forward to refill her mother's cup, placing another pastry on Weiss' plate with his free hand before stepping back to his position behind Willow's chair.

Back when word had first reached Winter of the attack on her mother, it had taken all of her considerable self-control, and a direct order from General Ironwood, not to seek retribution on the ones responsible. For one thing, the offenders had already been dealt with, quite effectively it should be noted, and while Atlesian Science was touted as the best in the world, raising the dead was still outside the realm of possibility, so attempting to interrogate them was out.

For another, while there was no question that the issue could have been circumvented if her father, no, Jacques Gelè, had bothered to afford her mother a proper security detail, there was no evidence to prove he was involved in the attack, so she couldn't take her anger out on him either, no matter how satisfying it would have been to be able to do so.

However, as relieved as she was to learn of her mother's safety, the means to said safety left Winter feeling conflicted. On the one hand, she felt personally indebted to her mother's savior, despite all assurances that the young man in question was quite content with his current position. And to be fair, serving as her mother's personal Valet was undoubtedly an improvement from living on the streets.

On the other hand, as grateful as she was to the dark-skinned butler, Winter hadn't earned her position as a Specialist by simply accepting things at face-value, and his sudden appearance in the back alley just as her mother was assaulted had seemed just a little too convenient for her liking. Add in the fact the man had lacked any official documentation in any of the kingdoms and you could probably understand how she might feel a bit skeptical towards him.

However, as the months passed without incident and her responsibilities began to mount, the eldest Schnee Sister began to relax her stance on the newest addition to her former household. It certainly helped that Weiss had nothing but praises to offer about the young man, to say nothing of how his presence seemed to have improved mother's temperament, which had nosedived since Gelè dropped his guise of loving husband.

And so Winter found herself in the awkward position of feeling both indebted and suspicious of her mother's Valet. While the young man had thus far conducted himself as nothing less than a gentleman, there was still that niggling feeling of doubt that the elder Schnee sister just couldn't shake.

"I must confess, when I first heard your proposal, I was rather skeptical." She professed as she sat down her teacup to address her mother "Not to disregard his abilities, but simply growing up on the streets does not substitute for proper training."

"While I do not refute that, I have absolute faith in his ability to perform." Willow mused, earning a sharp look from her elder daughter and a blink from her younger at the double-entendre "However, knowing your skepticism, I proposed this little match to remove all doubt from your minds."

"If it's any consolation, Miss Winter, I'm just as shocked about this as you are." The subject of their discussion confessed, affecting a nervous smile at the Winter's quirked brow "I'd completely understand if you refuse to go through with this."

"No, I will do it, if only to rouse you from your fantasies, even if they are admirable ones." Winter assured him as she rose to her feet to stand at ease, with her hands clasped behind her back "While it is one thing to admire Huntsmen, it is quite another to aspire to become one."

"On that, we can certainly agree." Willow concurred, Weiss likewise showing her support of her elder sister with a genteel nod "That being said, might I make a suggestion before you begin?"

"Do not worry, I have no intention of going full-out against a civilian." Winter assured her mother, only to blink at the Willow's decidedly ungenteel scoff, the Schnee sisters turning as one to gape at her in surprise, only for Winter to stiffen as a wave of killing intent washed over her the second she took her eyes of the valet, the elder sister drawing her sword to defend herself, only to find the man gone.

"Hold back?" Willow repeated, her mother's voice and Weiss' shocked gasp sending a shiver down Winter's spine as she turned to find the dark-skinned man using his handkerchief to remove a dollop of cream from her sister's cheek, the younger Schnee looking just as shocked as Winter at his sudden appearance at her side "Quite the contrary, Winter, I want you to take this seriously."

* * *

 _ **Schnee Manor - Courtyard - Shortly after.**_

"Was that really necessary, Ma'am?" I asked, looking on as Winter began her warm-up routines with Weiss looking on from the side-lines, torn between her desire to cheer for her elder sibling and her desire to not annoy her by acting like a teenager.

"Would you rather Winter have an excuse on hand when you prove your ability?" Willow countered, and at any other time her confidence in my ability to do so, evident in her using the word 'when' as opposed to 'if', would've been flattering, though now it only served to make me sigh.

"I'm more concerned with her safety to be honest." I confessed, my face completely serious as I looked her in the eye "I won't be able to hold back against a Specialist of Miss Winter's calibre. At the very least, I cannot promise her pride won't be hurt."

"All the more reason to take her seriously." Willow opined with a finality that brooked no argument "My father used to say that too much pride could kill a man. I never truly understood those words till I met Jacques, and I would rather my daughters learn that lesson now than on some distant battlefield."

'If I had my way they'll never have to learn that lesson at all.' I groused internally whilst inclining my head in understanding, only to look up as Klein arrived, bearing with him an attaché case "Ah, Mr. Sieben," I greeted with a nod "Sorry for the trouble."

"Think nothing of it my dear boy." Assured Weiss' former caretaker and the current head butler of House Schnee following the purge, I mean dismissal, of all those loyal to Gelè "What with how short-handed we are at the moment, I felt it prudent to bring this to you personally."

'That, and you wanted a front-row seat for my match with Winter.' I scoffed, noting several other members of the Manor staff, and Whitley, peeking through the upper windows. Rather than calling the older butler out, however, I instead accepted the case from him and set it on the nearby table, opening it to reveal my weapons.

Now just to clarify, when I say 'weapons' I don't mean the tools afforded to me by the Counter Guardian EMIYAssassin. For one thing, I had no intention of seriously hurting Winter, and for another it would lead to too many questions as to where I'd acquired said weapons for the duel.

No, by weapons I referred to my own, personal weapons that I'd requisitioned from a secure source during my employment as Willow's valet. Due to the exact specifications behind their make, they hadn't been ready for the hit against Gelè, but I now saw that as a blessing in disguise, as it meant I'd have something to fall back on that didn't tie me to the 'Red Hood'.

'Seriously? Of all the names they could've come up with?' I sighed, shaking my head in exasperation even as I set about checking over the weapons within. At first glance, one might mistake them for a simple pair of bayoneted handguns were it not for several discerning factors.

For one thing, considering the calibre of the ammunition they used, it was perhaps closer to refer to them as hand canons, and for another, the blades themselves resembled a certain pair of Chinese Falchions than bayonets.

'Let it never be said becoming a Counter Guardian never came without it's perks.' I mused as I finished loading the magazines, thumbing the safeties as I struck a pose for the audience before turning to face Winter, who had finished her warm-ups and was waiting patiently for me. "Well then, I do believe I've kept the lady waiting long enough."

"Yes, terrible show that." Klein chuckled knowingly, earning a slight upturn of the lip and an eye-roll from Willow as he closed the case to refresh her drink "Do try to avoid stepping on the flowerbeds?"

"No promises." I offered even as I made a mental note to do so, as the head gardener could be a holy terror when crossed, before turning to make my way towards Winter, stopping when there was a five or so metres between us. Apparently, my impromptu display earlier had served it's intended purpose, as her guard was up and would remain up until the conclusion of our duel

"I must confess, I was, surprised by mother's request." she stated, her tone calm and composed, a stark contrast to the wariness in her eyes "Even more so when I learnt you were to be my opponent, I was unaware you held such aspirations."

"In truth, I do not." I confessed with a shrug "I am wholly in agreement with you that the life and commitments of a Hunter are not to be taken lightly." I glanced over at Weiss "However, as I also share your mother's opinion that Weiss would be better off pursuing her education at Beacon, so regretfully we find ourselves at an impasse."

"And just why, pray tell, do you believe my sister would be better off?" Winter challenged, a hint of professional pride in her tone as she narrowed her eyes "Are you saying the Courses provided by Atlas are insufficient?"

"Hardly, you and General Ironwood stand as living proof of just how effective the system is." I countered with a shake of my head "However, therein lies part of the problem. If Miss Weiss were to attend Atlas, she would forever be in your shadow, in addition to all the expectations that come from being both a member of the Schnee Family and the heiress to the Schnee Dust Corporation." I nodded at Weiss whilst keeping my eyes on Winter "At least at Beacon, she will have a chance to come into her own identity, and perhaps make valuable allies who won't befriend her simply as a means to an end down the line."

Winter blinked, and for a moment I entertained the notion that I might actually be able to get out of this without a fight, for while there was no denying that Winter could be hard on Weiss, in the end it was only because she cared for her younger sibling and wanted her to succeed. Heck, it was Winter who, in her own way, convinced Weiss to sever her reliance on Gelè, back when he'd petulantly cut her off from her accounts just to get her to talk to him.

Sadly, a glance at Weiss saw the moment pass, Winter's eyes narrowing in determination as she turned to face me, though her earlier animosity seemed to have evaporated somewhat in the face of my speech. "Be that as it may, I still cannot accept your proposal at face value." She declared, drawing her sword and entering the same fencing stance from when she challenged Qrow "If you truly wish to change my mind, you will have to do so with steel."

"Like mother like daughter…" I sighed, shaking my head at the similarities between the three Schnee women, even if Weiss seemed a bit lacking in the figure department "I suppose I should have expected as much."

"Are you familiar with the standard dueling rules?" Willow demanded, referring to the officially sanctioned rules that all Huntsmen had to abide by in a tournament setting "We shall both continue until either our Aura drops into the red, or until the referee deems either of us unable to continue."

"I shall be acting as referee." Weiss declared from the side-lines. Were they anywhere else someone might have protested the decision, citing her inability to remain impartial with her sister as one of the contestants. However, Winter had nothing but faith in Weiss integrity, not only because she knew her sister better than most, but because Weiss knew precisely what would happen if she attempted anything underhanded to her opponent during an official duel "Are you both ready?"

* * *

 _ **Play: The Battle is To The Strong.**_

Winter nodded, her features settling into a solemn mask, eyes narrowing in irritation as she took in the relaxed stance of her opponent. As expected, his form was full of holes just waiting to be punished, something she fully intended to do the moment her sister dropped her hand.

'I'll summon a glyph under his feet and send him flying backwards.' She plotted, keeping her eyes firmly locked on her opponent's, both to watch for any sudden movements and to distract him from her left hand, hidden behind her back due to her fencing stance, her fingers aimed at his feet 'Once he's stunned I'll close in to disarm him and end this farce once and for all!'

"Begin!" Weiss cried out, Winter moving to put her plan into action, only for her eyes to widen as her opponent, in the span of an instant, somehow managed to cross the distance between them, only her reflexes, honed through countless drills and missions for the Atlesian Forces, allowing her to raise her blade in time to intercept his, the sheer force of the blow actually driving her to her knees.

'He's fast!' she exclaimed, eyes widening in alarm as she brought her hand up to support the back of her sabre as he continued to press down 'And strong…far too strong for someone without combat experience-!'

"-Is what you're thinking, right?" her opponent mused, Winter's eyes widening as she realized he'd somehow recited her own thoughts out loud "It's true, I've never had any official training…however, I think we can both agree there's no better substitute for live combat?"

"Tsk-!" Winter grimaced, forcing herself back to her feet in order to plant a boot in his gut, both to drive him back and use him as a base for another glyph, this one designed to propel both of them away from one another, the elder Schnee using her momentum to flip through the air, summoning several glyphs from which she intended to unleash a hail of Nevermores, only to gape as the thunder of gunfire shattered them like so much glass.

'A single handgun…did that?' she marveled, gaping down at the smoking firearm in her opponent's grip in amazement even as she dropped to the ground 'Just what kind of ammunition is he using?!'

"Should I take your silence as a sign of your surrender, Miss Winter?" Her opponent inquired in the ensuing silence, the politeness of his tone a stark contrast to the sharpness of his eyes as he tracked her movements "If not, shall I take it as an invitation to make the next move?"

Winter scowled but otherwise did not respond, her mind working a mile a minute as she tried to formulate a new plan of attack. While it wasn't unheard of for her glyphs to be destroyed in combat, never before had she encountered a scenario when someone was able to do so from range.

Contrary to their appearance, the Schnee Family crests were far from fragile, indeed, if her mother's stories were to be believed, her grandfather had often employed them as shields to gain much needed breathing room.

While Winter's summoning glyphs were nowhere near that strong, they still shouldn't have been shattered so easily, or at least not with the kind of ammunition that could be fired from a handgun. Even with aura-enhanced strength the recoil alone would have ruined the shot, to say nothing of the damage to the user's wrist.

Before she could ponder the fact further, she was forced into action as her opponent once again lunged forward, though nowhere near as fast as he had prior, as Winter was clearly able to see his movements this time despite the impressive turn of speed.

'Is there a limit to how often he can use that speed? Or is he simply holding back because he knows I'll be expecting it?' she pondered even as she readied her hidden blade, deploying it as he lunged forward once more, allowing her to defend against his assault with her sabre whilst using the dagger to aim quick strikes at his vitals.

'His firearms are powerful at range, but this close they're awkward, best suited for defence.' She noted, forgoing the use of glyphs for now in favour of getting in close and personal, landing several glancing blows that caused Weiss' scroll to beep, tallying the damage to his aura 'So long as I keep chipping away, he'll eventually-!'

"-hit the red." Her opponent once again unnervingly finished her thoughts for her "A sound strategy, given the limitations of this duel." He applauded, even as he deflected a strike to his midriff with his free hand 'However, I'll thank you not to assume I'll just sit back and let it happen."

Before Winter could retort, she found herself stumbling forwards, completely caught off balance as her opponent released his grip on his weapon. In that instant, before she could recover her composure, he took a step forward, Winter's eyes widening as his right hand, moving deceptively slowly, reached out as if to cup her cheek, the feel of his knuckles against her jaw sending shivers down her spine as they came to rest beside her ear "You-!"

Her words, along with her thoughts, were immediately silenced in the ensuing explosion.

* * *

And I'll just leave off there for now.

Just what is Mama Schnee thinking, having our hero face off against Winter? You'll have to wait and find out, but rest assured, everyone's favourite Snow Angel will be attending Beacon as canon.

And before anyone calls foul, the handguns in this chapter are **NOT** EMIYA Alter's modified _Kanshou & Bakuya_. They are simply replicas made in their image at our Hero's specifications by an associate of the Schnee Family, most likely the same one who provided Weiss with Myternaster.

And yes, Klein bringing the weapons in an attache case and Winter's reaction to their firepower was indeed yet another reference to Hellsing. As to Winter's claim that Glyphs can be used as shields, this was originally a head-canon of mine until I learnt of the 'Deflection Glyphs' Weiss can apparently use in the RWBY board-game.

For those curious, aside from Checkmate, pairings remain undecided at this point in time. Again, if you have a request, at least make it a reasonable one in a review or PM.

Till then, this is Kyugan signing out.


End file.
